


i look to you, like a red rose

by serenex



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Married Couple, Multi, Post-Crimson Flower Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenex/pseuds/serenex
Summary: "The way he sings her name is so familiar and so characteristic of him, in the way that his tongue dances over every syllable and savors it like he’ll never say it again, that it causes Edelgard’s heart to ache. First said with proud, childish arrogance, always with passion, and only recently with adoration, the way that he has said her name has always been her favorite."---The emperor's husband pays her a visit, with a little something up his sleeves. It interrupts her work, but she finds that she doesn't mind.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra (implied), Dorothea Arnault/Manuela Casagranda (mentioned), Ferdinand von Aegir/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth (mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	i look to you, like a red rose

**Author's Note:**

> me, furiously tapping on my keyboard: if nobody's going to write some sappy ferdigard i guess i'm going to have to do it myself!!!
> 
> anyway~! enjoy.

As the sun starts to set on yet another fruitful day, Adrestia’s powerful, talented Prime Minister hovers by the door like a moth would lurk dangerously near a golden flame, anxiously tapping his fingers on the side of the entrance. His heavy reluctance to disturb his wife from her mountains of paperwork is only interrupted by the quiet, exasperated sigh that she gives him as she turns around to acknowledge his presence. “Ferdinand.” The emperor’s address is filled with tired fondness that breaks through her icy, unshakable image. He freezes at this, and his breath hitches slightly. “Please, stop. If you wish to speak to me about something, you don’t have to wait for permission to enter.”

Ferdinand bows his head sheepishly, and he enters her office, closing the door quietly behind him. “I’m very sorry, my love. I...it is my noble upbringing that prevents me from doing such a thing so easily. You see, typically, it is only polite for someone of a lower ranking to ask for permission, no matter how close they may be-”

“I am aware of that. However, I must remind you that those days of rigid inequality are over. We tore them down together- furthermore, we are _married_ ,” Edelgard sets her quill aside before she accidentally snaps it out of frustration. “...We have borne _children_ together. Truly, you cannot expect me to force my husband, whom I have devoted my entire being to, to wait outside my door as if he isn’t worthy of my time.”

“No,” Ferdinand agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “I would never expect such a thing out of you. That would be quite cruel.”

“Good. I’m glad you understand.” The emperor relaxes in her chair, her shoulders slumping as she inspects how he’s holding himself. As she notices that his hands are kept behind his back, her purple eyes narrow. “...What did you come to see me about, anyway?”

“Ah!” Ferdinand’s face lights up, and he begins spilling out words with a great passion, his hands remaining where they are despite his excitement. Her suspicion only grows, but she is momentarily distracted by his news. “I went to visit Dorothea and Manuela at the opera house- they grow lovelier and lovelier every passing day- and they said that they had written a new song for you. I picked up the tune, and I was hoping that I could sing it to you.”

The tips of Edelgard’s ears go pink as she hears this news, and she mutters to herself. “Of- of course. Of course they did.” She clears her throat. “You may.” Perfect. It almost sounds as if she isn’t inwardly falling apart at the idea of being serenaded.

Ferdinand tucks a few wavy orange locks behind his ear, and gets down on one knee like he’s making a proposal. Most beginning singers would wish to be standing as they sang, but Ferdinand has always been one for dramatics, and besides, who would he be, as one of noble birth, if he could not sing anywhere at any time, under any circumstance? Surely not Ferdinand von Aegir.

“ _Edelgard_ ,” he begins, and from there she only melts further.

The way he sings her name is so familiar and so characteristic of him, in the way that his tongue dances over every syllable and savors it like he’ll never say it again, that it causes Edelgard’s heart to ache. First said with proud, childish arrogance, always with passion, and only recently with adoration, the way that he has said her name has always been her favorite.

“ _The reddest rose in all the land would pale beneath her splendor._  
_Her ivory skin, weighed with thorns, does nothing yet to bend her~._  
_Her iron will, sharpened like blades, they cut through all the night._  
_Her eyes like novas, galaxies, they dominate with light_  
_Edelgard, oh, E-del-gard_  
_Our hearts, they bloom for thee..._ ”

With every sappy word, she grows more and more flustered, and as she realizes how long this song would go on, she goes back to doing her paperwork, hoping that Ferdinand would take that as a sign to cease his embarrassing melody, but he continues going until he’s done with the song and out of breath.

As he huffs and puffs on the ground, he looks up at Edelgard, who refuses to turn around, because she knows that as soon as she does, his eyes will meet hers, and he will wipe the sweat off his brow and give her a sad look like a small puppy waiting for a pet on the head.

So he stands, and approaches her instead, and as he leans over to press his lips to her forehead, Edelgard can feel the way that his lovely hair tickles her nose and leaves her smelling roses and fresh fruit. “Did you not like it?” He questions, and she knows that he knows the answer.

“It was...it was very acceptable,” Edelgard begins stiffly, wincing at her own awkwardness. “Dorothea and Manuela are as talented as ever. You said you visited them- how are they doing? Their relationship...”

“It is still going strong,” Ferdinand confirms, reaching a hand out to stroke his emperor’s cheek. “They’re very happy. But not nearly as happy as us, of course!”

“Ferdinand.”

“Please, tell me that you liked the song. Beyond levels of acceptable, I hope that it was extraordinarily beautiful. I have been told that my voice-”

“-could make a pegasus dance with joy,” Edelgard finishes. “Your voice is lovely, my dear. I...I just find everything to be a bit much. It’s embarrassing, quite frankly.”

Ferdinand rests his head on hers. She inwardly thanks the fact that she decided not to wear her horns today. “Why be embarrassed? After all we’ve accomplished, you deserve a few songs in your honor. A full opera, even!”

“...Dorothea spoke to you about that?”

“Why, yes! How did you guess? I think it is a marvelous idea, myself. I, of course, will be playing the role of the professor.” Edelgard coughs loudly and abruptly, causing Ferdinand to jump slightly.

“Y-You, the professor?” She asks incredulously, turning around to face him now. “You look and sound nothing like him.”

“Well, yes! But that’s where my acting experience comes in! I will radiate stoic professionalism and win your heart, as well as the heart of the whole audience! It’s strange, you know, that they’re planning on a romantic subplot between us.”

“Us meaning the professor and I?” She couldn’t say that Dorothea hadn’t warned her about that. Edelgard was almost sure that she had hoped for such a thing to take place, only to be horribly disappointed when she informed her friend of her plan to court Ferdinand instead. She wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks. “...How strange indeed. Has he been informed of this?”

He shakes his head. “The professor and Linhardt have settled so far away from the capital that it takes quite a while for any news to reach them. I think they’re happier that way, but I do wish that they would reply to my letters a bit more often.”

“How unfortunate. He replies to my letters quite frequently.” She’s only teasing, but the way that Ferdinand flusters and squawks in a way that is so unlike him makes her chuckle quietly. “...I’ll mention you in my next letter, I promise.”

“Please do,” he huffs despairingly. “I doubt that the professor dislikes me. I simply cannot reason why he wouldn’t feel like sending a reply.”

“Perhaps he’s busy napping with his husband, or perhaps your letters are simply too wordy. I have trouble reading them myself.”

“My letters are perfectly well written,” Ferdinand insists, looking insulted. “Adele says that she feels as though they’re very poetic, which is all I hoped to achieve.”

Edelgard vaguely recalls their eldest daughter gingerly leafing through her paperwork and trying to figure out what was going on in the economy from that, and how surprised she’d felt when Edelgard discovered her in her office. “Adele is six,” she says. “...And although she is very well-learned for her age, I don’t think she understands that when you send letters, sometimes being concise will make it easier to read.”

Ferdinand only mumbles softly at that, mulling over things that she cannot hear. When he speaks up again, he asks, “...Say, where is my sweet Adele, anyway?”

“I’ve left her in Hubert’s care.” She spent her time over in his office at least twice a week, whenever her parents were busy with something. Although Hubert was a rather cold caretaker, he was so protective over his emperor’s flesh and blood that Bernadetta had to remind him that he needed a rest from constant vigilance once in a while. “In fact, he should be returning her any minute now. Hopefully, she’s had a good time.”

“Before they show,” he says, tone shifting to something more sweet, and more confident, “I collected something for you this afternoon.” Only now does Ferdinand show his hands, which are wrapped around a bouquet of the most gorgeous scarlet roses that she’s ever seen.

“Oh, Ferdinand,” she starts, and he shushes her with his index finger, much to her annoyance. Edelgard takes to staring at the roses instead, entranced by them.

“I spent my morning at the gardens, and they were in bloom. Immediately, you came to mind, Edelgard. I paid the caretaker more than enough for them, and I have to say they are worth every coin. To see this joyful look upon your face…”

He smiles, warm like the sun. It’s almost blinding. “...it is priceless, my love. It suits you very well.”

“Well,” she swallows, leaning forward slightly. She can feel that her cheeks are heated. “...Yours suits you even better, Ferdinand. Thank you. I cannot….I cannot thank you enough. Not just for the flowers.”

Ferdinand’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head questioningly, that smile still on his lips.

“....Thank you, for always supporting me, in your own way.” She reaches out to take his hand, and pulls him forward into a deep, passionate kiss, something so warm and so simple that she almost believes she doesn’t deserve it. After years of pain and toil, this was her reward- only one of many, of course, but one most fulfilling.

They stay like that for a while, until they are interrupted by a loud “Father!” and a quiet cough from Hubert, who is giving a cute, ginger child a piggyback ride. He has flowers covering almost his entire outfit, and he looks utterly ridiculous, which jolts the couple out of their romantic little world and back into the real world, where they have to deal with many serious questions, such as:

1\. How did she convince him to give her a piggyback ride? (It was her “dark magic” that compelled him, apparently.)  
2\. Who did that to his outfit? (Bernadetta. He could never deny her.)  
3\. How long has he been standing there?

“Longer than you might expect. I felt it rude to interrupt,” he chuckles darkly, and they decide that they would really rather not know.

As the prime minister leaves with his laughing, cooing daughter, Edelgard asks Hubert to fetch a vase for her roses. They sit on her desk until they wilt, and Ferdinand buys her new ones to replace them every time.


End file.
